Complications
by Bullet With A Name On It
Summary: It's the night of the Boyle masquerade, and Corvo Attano is attending with the most clever mask of all. It should be a simple mission: get in, eliminate the target, and escape without drawing any attention. But when unexpected complications arise, Corvo gets in deeper than he should, and doesn't know if he can get out.


**So, after a night involving a few drinks and a lot of gaming and fiction, I've finally decided to do my own Dishonored fic. I never thought I would write something for Dishonored, even though it's one of my all time favorite games(which is saying something since I've been a gamer for a long time and can remember all those old arcade games that most people on this site have probably never even heard of). I also never expected I would do a one-shot, but depending on the feedback I get from this, I may make this something like an excerpt of a full length tale. **

**Obviously I don't own Dishonored. **

**Let me know what you think, and whether I should make something more out of this(meaning: review). For some reason I feel like mentioning that I replayed the song "Change (In the House of Flies)" by Deftones over and over. Kept me in the right mood to type this up.**

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><p>Corvo walked through the large doors into the Boyle mansion. It had been a long time since he'd attended a party here, and the last time he did, it was with Jessamine. As he looked around the room, noting the multitude of Watchmen as well as the Wall of Light, he thought to himself,<p>

_It hasn't changed. At all._

Everything was as he remembered. Even as he himself slipped deeper into his bloodlust, and the city became home to rats more than people, the Boyle manor; indeed the Estate District as a whole; was like a paradise in the midst of the inferno, much as it always had been. The highborn guests mingled and gossiped and laughed as though they hadn't a care in the world, music played throughout the halls, and the aroma of delicious food and drink lured the guests as easily as a baited fish. He recalled the words of the Outsider some forty minutes ago.

"_Is that what you dreamed of, all those months in Coldridge Prison while waiting for the executioner? Wealth, beautiful women in the latest fashions, laughing and drinking wine?_"

Sometimes it was what he thought about. Memories of what he'd lost.

But he had a job to do. He wasn't attending for the food, or the drink, or the atmosphere. It certainly wasn't for the company.

Adjusting his leering mask, Corvo noted the podium off to the side with a ledger and quill resting atop it. He smirked behind his mask, walking over and signing his name in his rugged, flowing handwriting. It might not be the smartest thing to do, but the former Lord Protector couldn't resist. Should word get around that he'd infiltrated the party and slipped away without anyone noticing, that would be severely detrimental to Burrow's mental health. Not to mention elevate Corvo to unheard of levels of awe and perhaps even fear.

Fear. A peculiar thing. There were so many ways to experience it. Fearing for what may or may not come; fearing the consequences of one's actions; fearing for your loved ones. And the lack of fear. Such as the Boyle's displayed tonight. They seemed so assured of their safety- so sure that no one could do what Corvo had done. It was...amusing, in a way.

Corvo shook himself from his thoughts, remembering his task for the night. Being a professional, he'd already made it upstairs via the outside balcony, knocking the guard unconscious and slipping into the mansion's upper level. Evading the guards and searching the three sisters' rooms, he'd identified his target as well as the color she was in. Waverly, dressed in black. The worrier, the middle child, the forgotten one. Reading her diary had proved fruitful, giving the assassin valuable insight into the life and personality of his target. Being the second of three children, she'd always felt over-looked and inadequate. She hadn't the musical talent of the elder Lydia, nor the outgoing personality of the younger Esma. She was quickly married to a lesser nobleman, contrasting with Lydia who'd gained the estate after their parents died, and Esma who hadn't married and instead lived with Lydia. Lydia hadn't married either- indeed, it was rumoured that she was still a virgin- claiming that she hadn't found anyone worth her time or fortune. And after her husband died, Waverly was back in her childhood home with her sisters. Rumoured to be incredibly paranoid, Corvo knew that such a thing made little difference to a woman who felt unloved. All she wanted was to feel appreciated, and he could make that work in his favor.

And now he waited for the opportune moment to strike. The woman was currently engaged in conversation with one of her guests, standing in the music room adjoining the dining hall. Corvo stood watching her, tilting his mask slightly so he could drink from his glass of the spiced whiskey that flowed from the fountain. After a few minutes, the guest left and she appeared to be alone. Finishing his drink, Corvo straightened his mask and walked over to the hostess.

"Yes, what is it?" she said in a rather bored tone.

"I know who you are," Corvo replied in his deep, slightly accented voice.

The woman appeared amused. "Is that right? Well...?"

"Perhaps a more...private, conversation would be preferable. _Waverly_," he said, bringing back some of the old Serkonan charm he once had.

"Well, we do seem to be alone right here. And we are...unchaperoned. I think this will do for now," she said, a playful banter to her voice.

_Shit_. He needed her alone, but also away from the party and any witnesses or guards. He racked his brain for any way to get her to bring him somewhere secluded, preferably her personal chambers. "So what was the promised prize for guessing correctly?" he asked the woman, making a show of eyeing her body.

She cocked her head slightly. "And what makes you think you guessed correctly?"

His raised an eyebrow. What was she going on about? He'd read it in her own diary that she was in black, Lydia in white, and Esma in red. "I know for a fact that you, Waverly, are dressed in black. Lydia is in white, and Esma is in red," he said confidently.

"You _know,_ do you?" He could practically hear the smile in her tone. "What makes you so sure?"

"I'm very good at guessing games," he replied. Being the former Royal Protector, detective work was like a hobby to him.

The slight woman in front of him laughed. "Obviously not at this guessing game. Waverly isn't dressed in black tonight. I'm afraid you lose this time."

Corvo's brows furrowed. "I don't believe you. You're Waverly."

She cocked her hips and Corvo could easily imagine the look on her face at that moment. "Are you accusing the hostess of the party of being a liar?" she asked.

Corvo was glad he had his mask hiding the frustrated look on his face. "Of course not, my lady. I was just certain that I had it all figured out."

He turned to walk away, but she stopped him. "My lord? Where do you think you're going?"

"For a drink," he said, doing a poor job of keeping his anger out of his voice.

She tsk-ed at him. "I don't think so. You've guessed wrong, so I think it proper that you allow me a prize," she said, the smirk evident even behind the mask.

_Damn it all to the Void_. They must have switched outfits for some reason. And judging by the way this one was talking, that meant he was probably conversing with Esma. _Shit_, he thought once more. The last thing he wanted was to go to bed with the slut of a noblewoman. She'd probably been fucked by more men than half of the prostitutes at The Golden Cat.

"What prize?" he asked warily.

She looked around the room, speaking as she did so. "Well, unlike my sisters, I appreciate the arts. I don't care for all these businessmen here, concerned only with their wealth. I long for someone with a taste for music that can match my own. Do you have an affinity for the arts, my lord?" she asked innocently.

Indeed he did. It was one of the things that Jessamine had loved about Corvo, his love for art and music and dance. "I do, my lady. Why do you ask?" He realized he was actually talking to Lydia, the eldest child. Well at least he didn't have to worry about catching something from the highborn whore this woman called a sister.

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "These men are all so dull, it's absolutely marvelous to have someone with character finally attend. Come, my lord. Play me a song."

He grimaced behind the mask. He needed to get to Waverly. He didn't have time to play this woman a song. "I'm sorry, my lady, but I don't think-"

"I don't want you to think," she interrupted. "I want you to play a song. If you don't, I'll have the guards remove you from my home," she said firmly.

Damn it. While he could easily take care of the guards and carry out his mission, it would make things much more complicated. If he played her music, maybe she'd let him go.

Noticing the Serkonan guitarra on display, Corvo picked up the instrument, plucking at the strings to tune the instrument to play one of the songs he grew up with. When he was satisfied, he began the song. There were no words to the melody; all emotion was garnered, and all story told through the music. It was a song often heard throughout his homeland on the beaches by the sailors. It was a quick song, with an upbeat tone and homey kind of feeling. He could see that Lydia was enjoying his little performance, as she sat on the edge of the recliner, hands folded in her lap but her head moving slightly with the tune.

She clapped as he finished, standing up. Corvo couldn't help the smile the crept on his face behind the mask, knowing full well that she was grinning beneath hers, clearly impressed.

"That was wonderful, my lord. I thought that was a southern island accent I heard, and it must be given that I've only heard music like that played in Serkonos. You must tell me your name."

Corvo shook his head. "If you will, my lady, I would prefer to return to the festivities."

Lydia Boyle waved her hand dismissively. "You may return when I am finished with you, sir. As the hostess of this party, I demand to know your name," she said playfully.

He barely managed to hold back the irritated sigh that tried to escape his lips. "Perhaps, somewhere more private," he said without a hint of anger.

The woman giggled lightly. "Sir, you mistake me for Esma, I think. I am not one for gallivanting around with all the men of Dunwall."

"I am not all the men of Dunwall. Just one, from Karnaca."

"Indeed. Bring that guitarra with you. You'll have your private audience, but I think I'll make you work for it," she said.

She grabbed hold of his much larger hand and guided him to the servants' staircase. The watchman on guard glared at Corvo as the noblewoman pulled him up the stairs. Then, just like that, he was in Lydia's messy chambers, albeit in her presence this time.

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><p>Lydia sat on her massive bed, pulling off the black mask and ridiculous hat that adorned her head, dropping both carelessly to the floor to join the rest of the pile of old clothing. Corvo was slightly taken back. He'd forgotten just how beautiful the Boyle women were. And still very youthful. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Her blonde hair was as golden as a yellow rose at full bloom, and framed her small face with a natural flow. She looked at him expectantly; not exactly demanding, as one would expect from a snobby noble, but more like a child awaiting a reward.<p>

Corvo had planned on simply waiting for her to turn her back so that he could load a toxic dart in his crossbow and silently knock the woman unconscious. But now, with her beauty staring him in the face, and being so willing to let him have her- he wanted to oblige. All the killing, quenching his thirst for vengeance, dispatching those who'd wronged him; none of it could fill the last bit of void within him. He needed the gentle touch of a woman. Ever since Jessamine's death...

"Well?" she smiled at him. "Are you going to remove that horrible mask and play me a song?"

Before he could stop himself, Corvo felt himself reaching for the mask. Undoing the straps that held the leering skull in place, he pulled off the metal and cloth that covered his bearded face. Instantly, he berated himself. What kind of moron was he that he would show his face to the sister of the person he'd been sent to kill? The person who was the mistress of the Lord Regent himself, Corvo's own nemesis.

It took a second for the black clad woman to recognize the face that stared back at her. Once she did, she screamed. "Guar- mmmmff!" she cried, her voice muffled by the rough hand clamped over her mouth. She continued screaming against him, kicking and flailing her arms as well, forcing him to wrap his other arm around her and pull her against him. This made it much harder for her to fight him, and Corvo leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"If you want to live, you'll stop fighting, and you'll remain silent. Understand?" She continued to struggle, and he squeezed her with his arm. "_Understand?_" he said more forcefully. She nodded this time, discontinuing her futile struggle. Taking his arm off her, but keeping his hand over her mouth, he reached into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a dart. "This is a sedative," he told her, holding the dart in front of her eyes. "I'm going to remove my hand, and if you scream, this will be in you faster than you can blink. Understand?" he asked again. She nodded. Corvo eyed her, making sure she got the message and wasn't going to try anything foolish. He took his hand from her mouth, keeping it near in case she tried to yell.

"What do you want, Corvo?" she asked after a moment.

"I'm not here to kill you, if that's what you're asking."

"Well then what are you here for?"

"I think I've caused enough problems indulging you tonight." He stood up and placed the mask over his face again, allowing the young woman to sit on her bed again.

"You must be here to kill _someone_, otherwise there would be no reason for your attendance."

"It isn't you and that's all you need to know," he said harshly.

"...So what happens now, Lord Attano?"

Corvo was conflicted. He wanted to remain faithful to Jessamine. Though they were only rumours to the citizens of the Empire, they were also true. Corvo had loved the Empress, and she him.

But she was dead now. And Corvo was still a young man, in his prime. And men had urges that could only be suppressed for so long. Lydia Boyle was a beautiful young lady, and- up until a few minutes ago- was more than willing.

"Corvo?"

"That depends on you."

She cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

Corvo smiled behind the grim visage. "Do you still desire that song, my lady?"

The surprise was written plainly on her face. Of all the possibilities, this had never even crossed her mind. Was he now suggesting that he desired her as much as she did him? "You can't be serious," she said disparagingly.

"Have I ever been anything but serious, my lady?" He made a good point. She had no qualms before he'd revealed his identity. Why should it matter now, except to increase her desire. The Lord Protector cut an imposing figure. Rugged, handsome and exotic, Corvo Attano was the kind of man most women dreamed of having. And now she knew he had as much an interest in the arts as she did.

And she had him- in her own room- all to herself.

"Perhaps we could try a dance instead," she suggested provocatively. "Your people are famous for their dances, after all."

She stood up and walked in front him, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. She fumbled with the straps of his mask, finally freeing his bearded face from that horrid skull, and planting a kiss on his lips. It wasn't gentle, but a hungry kiss, from one deprived soul to another. Deprived of affection and in need of someone who cared. He returned it eagerly, allowing her to slip the long grey coat from his broad shoulders.

She continued with the heavy breastplate that protected his torso, unstrapping it and dropping it amongst the clutter. The vest soon followed, and she placed her lips against his once more as she unbuttoned his shirt. She ran her gloved hands along his muscular, slightly hairy chest, pleased that he was returning her kiss with as much want as her own. He turned around and started on her blouse, contrasting her careful attention by simply tearing the front of it and slipping it off her slender frame. She peeled her gloves off as he lifted her up and pulled off her pants. Then she set to work on his own trousers, unbuckling the belt, then the buttons. He quickly unstrapped his boots and kicked them off, allowing her to pull his trousers fully off and free his throbbing member. Her eyes widened slightly at the sizeable piece of meat presented to her, and Corvo grinned when he noticed. He unclasped her brassière and tossed it somewhere, his eyes gravitating immediately to Lydia's small, perky breasts. Corvo slid his calloused hands over her pale skin, their lips never breaking contact, as he tugged her underwear off.

Both nude, Lydia was unsure what she wanted. On one hand, she liked the thought of taking charge of the Serkonan. But she didn't think he would allow such a thing, and she couldn't help but think how pleasurable it would be for him to take control of her.

So she pulled him toward the bed and tried to push him down, but he grabbed her wrists and managed to pin her up against the wall. "You wanted it. So you'll get it. But I'm leading this one," he whispered huskily into her ear.

Lydia smiled as he said it, the smile becoming an open mouthed gasp as he dragged his stubble covered chin down her torso. He stopped at her belly button and trailed kisses up her body until he reached her breasts. Corvo took a nipple in his mouth, tugging gently with his teeth and licking with his tongue, eliciting small gasps of electric pleasure from the petite woman beneath him. His other hand had both her wrists and he kept her arms above her head, placing her completely at his mercy. She could feel his hard shaft poking against her stomach, and juices trickled down her thighs at the thought of him inside her.

Pleasure suddenly coursed through her body as Corvo placed his mouth against her folds, kissing her womanhood the way he'd kissed her mouth. Minutes of intense pleasure went by as he became more and more rough, his tongue darting around her sex and briskly stroking the nub at the top of her folds. Lydia had her hands tangled in his long hair, half-pushing and half-pulling his head. This was the first time she'd had a man kiss her down there, and it felt like nothing she'd ever experienced. His wet tongue lapping at the juices coating her slit had waves of ecstasy rolling over her. It wasn't much longer before she was convulsing on her bed, her womanly nectar gushing onto the bodyguard's face.

Lydia felt utterly spent. That was what she had needed. Someone to love her the way she deserved. Not for her money, or her name, but just her. Someone who shared her passions, and could make her feel truly happy. But Corvo was just getting started.

Throwing her on the bed, he kissed his way back up to her, the painful scrape of his beard strangely pleasurable now. His muscular form now covered her own slender one, tan skin meeting pale. They each took in the other's scent; Corvo smelling Lydia's perfume mixed with sweat, and Lydia smelling the scent of tobacco, alcohol, and raw man. Nothing particularly special, but in this state, it was an aphrodisiac for her.

She rubbed her hands along his chest again, waiting for him to penetrate her. He pinched her nipples, causing equal amounts of pain and pleasure, and turning her playful roaming into bloody scratching. The man smiled as if he enjoyed the sensation, even as blood trickled down his chest. She watched slightly fascinated at the way it wound its way around the contours of his muscular abdomen, finally dripping from his body to hers just below his belly button.

He pinched a bit harder this time, and she obligingly dug her nails deeper, taking some pleasure in the grimace she received. Then, just as she could feel an ache in her nether regions, Corvo plunged into her without warning. Gentle as it was, it still sent currents of pleasure coursing through her body. Thankfully, the gentleness didn't last long, and he began to pound into her, pinching her nipples and returning her rough, animalistic kisses. Her slick folds expanded to accommodate his member, and she moaned in pleasure as he filled her cavity, the sound of skin slapping skin joining the chorus of moans and groans.

Corvo flipped them so that she sat on top of him, using his powerful arms to lift her up and down to meet his thrusts. Her little mounds bounced up and down with her movement, and Corvo stared at them as he ploughed into her, delighting in the moans and gasps that escaped her lips every time he lifted her up and brought her back down. Lydia was in pure ecstasy with the royal bodyguard pounding into her tight entrance like it was his last day to live. She leaned forward and dragged her manicured nails down his chest again, adding fresh marks to the collection of old scars and causing the man to groan.

Corvo flipped her again so that she lay on her back, placing her legs over his shoulders to drive his cock as deep as he could with every thrust. He rubbed the nub as he ploughed her, gently at first, then with increasing ferocity as he pounded away. Lydia couldn't stop the scream the echoed throughout the room, and she searched for any way to help her deal with the intense pleasure rapturing her body; clutching the sheets, grabbing the arm that played with her bosom, even playing with her own breast alongside Corvo.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity in heaven, her release came again; a wave of electrifying pleasure washing over her and exiting through her opening, covering the masterful Lord's tool. He kept on for another few minutes before his own release, spilling his seed into her welcoming womb. He grunted loudly as he thrusted, his member spasming inside her. With one final thrust, Corvo expelled the last of his fluid into the Boyle woman.

They lay for a moment, Corvo extricating himself from her and collapsing at her side. Lydia placed her head on his chest, tracing patterns over his scars, while he absent-mindedly continued to fondle her ass. Sokolov was right when he said she had the finest rear in the city.

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><p>It had been a night of unexpected complications, he thought. But not in an unpleasant way, as he had expected. He rubbed his fingers up and down her back, feeling her shiver underneath his touch. Now that he was no longer caught up in the heat of the moment, he wondered at how he was going to get himself out of this one. After all, he was here to kill her sister.<p>

"You've no idea how badly I needed that, my lord," she said breathily, giggling lightly.

Corvo stroked her hair, knowing that he needed it as well. "Perhaps not. But I needed the same, Lady Boyle."

"Lydia," she corrected him.

"Lydia," he agreed.

It was silent for another few moments, when she asked something that had been on her mind. "Pardon my askance, Lord Attano, but I hoped you would answer something that I have been curious about for some years."

He closed his eyes. He knew where she was going, and didn't really want to open that door to the past. But as she lay atop him, fluids still dripping from her sex onto his leg and stroking his chest with her small, soft hands, Corvo couldn't deny her. "Yes," he said, simultaneously granting permission and answering her question.

"Is there any truth to the rumours about you and the Empress Kaldwin? How she bore a child, and why you never took a wife were commonly discussed among the aristocracy. I would be lying if I said I never put in my two pennies worth."

Corvo sighed heavily out his nostrils. For so many years, they'd had to keep it a secret. As long as the rumours stayed rumours, they hadn't any cause to worry. But now she was dead, and Corvo himself was framed as the cause. What harm could come from telling this woman now?

"Yes," he answered. "The Empress and I were lovers. A few years after it began, we took a trip to Serkonos and were wed in the traditional style in secret."

"So then, the Lady-"

"Yes, she is mine."

Lydia was quiet for a while. She digested the information that had just been revealed to her. If things were different, such information could easily be used to blackmail both Corvo and the Empress. But she was dead, and Corvo, even if only for the night, was now _her_ lover. A new thought crossed her mind.

"You couldn't have murdered her then," she said. Instantly his muscles tensed, and Lydia almost regretted bringing it up. The Royal Protector had always been famous for his temper.

"No. I didn't," he ground out. He said nothing more, and Lydia was content not to evoke his wrath by pressing the matter any further.

"Corvo?" she asked after a few moments. He grunted his acknowledgment. "Will you stay here with me?"

In that moment, Corvo could sense the deep feeling of loneliness that the Boyle woman contained within her. He remembered as he read through her diary that she had only ever loved one man, a musician like her, and he had left after one night. The few times he had attended her parties in the past, she had always seemed sad and aloof whenever she thought she was alone. The façade falling once the guests exchanged their pleasantries and moved on to the party.

But she was a free-spirit; not someone to be bound by the restrictions of nobility. He could see that she learned long ago that the wealth, and the land, and the trappings of court life couldn't bring her happiness. It was all an act. She wanted nothing more than to lose herself in music the way other artists did. To be free of the chains that bound her.

But she had a name- a family honour to uphold. Everything was dropped onto her shoulders, whether she wanted it or not, and she had no one to bear it with. Those looking from the outside would call her petulant. "How could she not be happy with such wealth and power?" they asked. "Only someone spoilt could complain about their money."

But not everyone desired such things. She wanted to be liberated from the responsibilities of politics and the aristocracy, and just live a simple life of song. The games the nobles played were not for her. They would turn on her in an instant if it brought them even the slightest bit of gain.

She was alone. Just as Corvo was alone. Birds of a feather- as they say.

"I can't," Corvo gently replied. He had a job to do. Though he sensed that at any moment the "loyalists" would turn on him, he still had to end the Lord Regent. Once that was done, he would see if they could be trusted.

"Please, Corvo," she begged, her voice breaking. "At least for this night. I can't be alone any more."

Corvo sighed, wondering how it had come to this. Two like souls, wayward and searching, now coming together. What would come of this meeting?

"Alright," he said, stroking her hair. "At least for this night."

What could the repercussions be?

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><p><strong>Please review and let me know what you think.<strong>


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